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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22523455">Private Lessons</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/violinrosette/pseuds/violinrosette'>violinrosette</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twosetviolin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Classical Music, Colleagues with Benefits, Comfort Sex, Conductor!Brett, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Insecurity, M/M, Professor!Eddy, Rough Sex, Self-Doubt, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Switching, Violins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:02:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22523455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/violinrosette/pseuds/violinrosette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brett Yang, newly appointed director of conducting studies and head of the orchestral music program, is steadily earning a reputation not just for his strong, agile and passionate authority on the podium, but for his strict demeanor when it comes to taking music seriously.</p><p>Professor Edward Wenuhin Chen is an infamous domineering figure who string students collectively fear and look up to the most. No mishap goes unnoticed. No ego gets away unscathed.  </p><p>There's something magnetic and fierce in the way these two clash, and it's only a matter of time before a battle of wits and pride evolve into something much more intense and...unbidden.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddy Chen/Brett Yang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Excerpt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sorry idk this was the result of watching their video "What Not To Do In Orchestra" and "When You Don't Practice Enough." because Intimidating Professor Wenuhin &amp; Stern Conductor Brett is taking over my brain and I needed an outlet to release these thoughts somewhere.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>"Did you hear? Professor Wenuhin made another kid cry today."</p><p>"Shh! Don't bring up his name! It gives me PTSD just thinking about the lesson I had with him last week."</p><p>"Dude, I was one shaky bow away from getting a verbal tongue lashing to my grave. That guy is intense as hell!"</p><p>"I mean, he's really good at what he does. But yeah, have you ever seen the guy smile in his life?"</p><p>"I think I saw his lips twitch up a fraction of an inch from where I was standing outside the studio one time. I could've sworn he was with our..."</p><p>Brett aggressively taps his baton against the stand and glares at the string section. "You three. Please shut up or just leave if you have no intention of paying attention."</p><p>"Sorry, sir!! We won't do it again, sir!"</p><p>Brett's heavy sigh doesn't go unnoticed as he turns to the rest of the orchestra. "Sorry about that...now, with all that I just said in mind, let's continue from the top."</p><p>*</p><p>"Rough rehearsal, Professor Yang?"</p><p>Brett hears the familiar teasing tone curl on the other's tongue and he almost thinks he'll deck the fucker out. Still, Brett is a dignified individual, born and bred as a musician who knows better than to throw hands, so the thought sizzles out to a withering look of contempt.</p><p>"Wenuhin." Brett greets, curt and clipped. He collects the rest of the music score from the stand, watching as the last few students, grad and undergraduate alike, trickle out from the conservatory. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>"Just checking in to see how my students are doing." The corner of Wenuhin's lip curls down a little as he reflects on it, brows furrowed in a way that seems like he's thinking of twenty different ways to torture another poor soul. Brett almost feels sorry for them. <em>Almost</em>. "Clearly they need more discipline if they're acting up like this. Can't you straighten them up better, Yang? I thought they'd take someone like you a little more seriously."</p><p>Brett grits his teeth, shoving down the annoyance that's threatening to claw its way out from his throat. "Maybe if they've been taught more thoroughly, I wouldn't have to go over every critical mistake they make."</p><p>Wenuhin tuts his tongue and shakes his head. "Oh, my dear Yang, my lessons are always <em>thorough</em>. You, of all people, should know that." Wenuhin strides towards him in a grace-like manner that shouldn't have Brett so impressed, but he backs up against one of the walls all the same as Wenuhin traps him in place. "Should we have another private lesson between us, if you're so doubtful?"</p><p>Brett huffs, carding a hand through his hair as his eyes narrow towards his acquaintance. "It's not like you'll let me say no." Without warning, Brett grabs at Wenuhin's collar and turns so he's slamming the taller musician against the wall, hating the fact that Wenuhin doesn't seem frazzled in the slightest. In fact, you could say he's almost smirking. What an infuriating...Brett clicks his tongue, irritated. "This time, how about I show you just how <em>well </em>I can discipline someone?"</p><p>The fox-like grin on the other's face shouldn't be so stupidly handsome, but it is, and Brett hates how much he likes it. He lets Wenuhin caress the side of his face, trailing delicate fingers along his jaw before forcefully tilting his chin up, leveling Brett's glare with a challenging one of his own. Brett's heart shivers delightfully. "I'd love to see you try."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>When you think of demons, how do you imagine it?</p><p>For some, it's an inhumane monster terrorizing those who hold a sin against divine law. For others, it's an intangible source of all-consumming misery and distraught. Surely it's the emotion of grief...hatred...and anger, balled up into a metaphysical form that shapes the worst imaginable evils in a person's heart.</p><p>For Brett, it's a self-imposed inner demon at work, gnawing at his mind and ridding him of any last respectable muse from his soul.</p><p>*</p><p>Brett rubs his temples as the headache he had held onto since this morning started acting up again. A video recording was playing in the background from his laptop: <b>Tchaikovsky - Symphony No. 6 "Pathétique" in B minor, Op. 74</b>. The conductor, Herbert von Karajan, leading at the forefront of the orchestra. Brett taps his fingers along his desk in time with the beat, but there's no point to it, the pounding in his head is completely messing up his rhythm. Brett looks down to see the blank sheet music he's working on is still, well, <em>blank</em>. Save for the treble clefs on the staves, Brett hasn't even set the time signature yet and that's just...</p><p>Brett clicks his tongue.</p><p>He hasn't been getting any inspiration lately and he's wondering if he's starting to lose his touch. The garbage can next to him is filled to the brim with scrapped and unfinished composition. It's not good enough. It's not <em>right</em>. The love he has for classical music still holds strong, but his head has been more with the clouds instead of with Mahler or Brahms. His focus is off. He's not where he should be. What has he accomplished up 'till now, if anything at all?</p><p>Speaking of which...</p><p>Brett taps the spacebar and pauses the video before going onto a new tab. He pulls up the school website and clicks around until he gets to his class roster, scrolling down the list until he gets to a specific name that's been nipping on his mind for the past few weeks: Yu Fong Lee. A second year violinist who has shown the most potential with his musicianship and honed technical skills on his instrument. His current level of ability surpasses his peers by a fair amount and Brett would have easily made him first chair, if not for the fact that his performance dramatically dropped to the bare minimum, sometimes even less, since the third week of the semester. Even when Brett pulls the kid aside and tries to approach the subject, Brett is only met with a shrug and a vague excuse that Brett can't be bothered to care about. If a student decides to lose themselves like this, then it's honestly none of Brett's business and if Brett has his way, he would've kicked them out of his orchestra immediately. He has more things to worry about than kids who don't take their education seriously. He's not a fucking babysitter.</p><p>Brett says as much, under his breath, when he sees an email from the dean asking him to do exactly that:</p><p>
  <em>Hello Professor Yang,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I hope all has been well. I've been meaning to talk to you about a certain matter regarding a particular student [...]</em>
</p><p>The kid belonged to some rich family who's concerned about their son and, quite apparently, the dean's scared the kid might drop out at any point along with their charitable scholarship donations. <em>Not his problem,</em> Brett thinks again, but he doesn't have much choice in the matter if he's being forced to deal with it in this way. It wouldn't have bothered Brett nearly as much if he didn't see the latter half of the email:</p><p>
  <em>[...] Yu Fong Lee is under the personal guidance of Professor Wenuhin, as you might be aware, and perhaps he can provide some insight that can help you when the student is in your care. As he is also responsible for coaching the string sectionals for </em>
  <em>the</em>
  <em> orchestra in which you are in charge of, I do hope to give you two a better opportunity to connect. </em>
</p><p>Brett shuts his laptop and exhales heavily. The intensity of his headache makes itself more prominent.</p><p>*</p><p>Brett walks down the hall towards the studio in quick brisk steps, hoping to get this over and done with soon so he can just go home and take a nice warm bath. Maybe listen to Satie's <em>Gymnopédie No.1</em> and mellow out from there. Perhaps have a glass of wine. Or three.</p><p>Then, maybe compose something that's remotely close to decent.</p><p>Brett stops outside the doorway and waits, hearing no music coming from the room. With that, he raises his hand to knock against the wooden frame and hears the firm timbre of a voice call him in. Brett enters to see the person he's looking for sitting comfortably at a desk, red pen in hand marking away at what Brett assume is homework.</p><p>"Professor Yang," Wenuhin greets him with a raised brow. Brett nods stiffly in kind. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"</p><p>"It's about Yu Fong Lee, a student we share. His performance has been substantially subpar the past few weeks considering his actual level of skill and I just wanted to see how he was doing during your lessons."</p><p>Wenuhin hums. "Ah, yes...Yu Fong. He practices, that much I can tell. Rarely do I ever have to critique his form while playing. Rather, it's more accurate to say he plays in a way that meets the standard during our lessons. However..." Wenuhin leans back against his seat and idly presses two fingers against his lips, contemplating something in his mind. His gaze flits towards Brett and Brett instinctively looks away. "Leave it to me," Wenuhin says, tone purposeful and knowing. "I think I can do something about it."</p><p>"Thanks..." Brett relaxes a little, thinking that will be the end of that, but oh is he ever wrong.</p><p>"You're quite zealous today though, I must say." Wenuhin starts, stacking the scattered papers into one neat pile as he makes conversation. "Until today, no matter how many times a student falls off discipline, there was never a time where you would reach out to look into it."</p><p>"Well, if it was just a few bad days I would've just dismissed it. But lately it's starting to become a problem that I can't ignore this time. He used to be diligent and attentive, so -"</p><p>"<em>There has to be reason</em>, is it? Or so, did you hear that from head office, or was it directly from his guardian? Both parties, perhaps? If that's the case, even you would have to step in, wouldn't you? Unwillingly or not."</p><p><em><b>Tsk</b></em>.</p><p>Edward Wenuhin Chen.</p><p>Brett can't deal with him at all!</p><p>Ever since Brett started working at the conservatory last winter, there has never been a moment where the few words they did exchange could be called a conversation. Rather than bad blood, Brett just knew (knows, has always known) a personality like Wenuhin is one Brett can't handle and has actively done his part to keep their distance intact. It's something in the other's eyes that makes Brett feel naturally unsettled. Almost as if his piercing gaze can see right through him. And that's. That's just -</p><p>"Professor Yang?"</p><p>Brett jerks back, completely caught off guard by the sudden close proximity of Wenuhin's face popping out of nowhere. His heart thumps noisily against his chest in surprise.</p><p>"Care to have some?" startled or not, Wenuhin offers him a fresh mug of coffee and looks at him with a friendly smile that Brett doesn't trust in the slightest. Brett nods and unthinkingly accepts the offer without meaning to.</p><p>That, Brett later finds out, will be the start of an unfortunate habit that he won't ever be able to get out of.</p><p>*</p><p>"It makes me happy, though, that you came to visit me yourself." Wenuhin chatters as Brett takes a seat across from him, coffee in hand. The brief eye-contact Brett makes with Wenuhin is quickly dispelled as he looks down to stare at the rim of his mug instead. "I've always wanted to personally talk to you alone like this, so I consider this a lucky chance."</p><p><em>Lucky?</em> Brett isn't sure he can say the same. He still isn't sure why he can't even fully look the other in the eye. It's like a nervous tick at this point and the more Brett feels this way, the more he gets annoyed. He really can't deal with it.</p><p>"...You can't deal with me well, can you, Professor Yang?"</p><p>"Huh?" Brett startles. Did it show on his face? "No I'm. It's not -"</p><p>"It's fine if you are, really." Wenuhin chuckles, voice sounding far too amused for the situation. "It's more fun for me, that is. Seeing you get startled whenever our eyes meet is quite amusing."</p><p>God, Brett can't understand this guy at all.</p><p>"The fact that we share a number of students has me thinking about our eventual meeting sooner or later. To think that it would be because of Yu Fong..."</p><p>Brett grimaces. "I'm taking it that he doesn't act up when he's with you, then?"</p><p>Wenuhin shakes his head. "He plays exceptionally well, so I can't complain. I do see his passion partially lacking, though, but to think it was this severe...Like I said, I will talk to him though, seeing as he isn't opening up to you."</p><p>"His playing isn't terrible, but it's a far cry from what I witnessed at his audition. And why does it feel like you're taking a jab at my competency with that line? Are you saying you're capable at getting through to him?"</p><p>Wenuhin surrenders his hands up. "Of course you're more than competent," he says, disarmingly innocent. "I just have a way with words, particularly with those similar to his case. I'm sure you heard the rumors of my demeanor, but I'm quite the charmer when I need to be."</p><p>"Charm?" Brett suddenly sits up straighter, alarmed. "I've heard students griping about your spartan-like lessons, but charming is a bit...You're not fooling around with them or -"</p><p>"Oh no, that's certainly the wrong impression you have of me." Wenuhin leans his cheek against his palm, eyes glinting with mirth. "The charm I meant is quite different from the one you have in mind, professor."</p><p>Brett feels his face flair with embarrassment, well aware of how hasty his accusation was. "Sorry, that was uncalled for."</p><p>"Oh, not at all." Wenuhin waves it off with a laugh. "Even if a student of mine does fall in love with me for whatever reason, there's certainly no way I could take it seriously. Isn't it the same for you?"</p><p>"With anyone who falls for you, it's clear that they'll only get hurt in the end whether it's serious or not. Especially since your behaviour seems to be saying your love is only for amusement."</p><p>There's a beat of silence and for a split second, Brett wonders if he went too far with his blunt words. But not a moment later, Wenuhin is bursting out into raucous laughter, startling Brett from his seat.</p><p>"Oh that's good! <em>Really good!</em> You're just as amusing as I thought you'd be, Professor Yang!" There's a glimmer of something daring in his eyes now, and Brett finds himself nervous for a whole different reason. "If a foolish thing like romance can't be considered a game, then I want no part of it. All I want is to discover something exciting, pick apart at it and see interesting things that no one else can. Very much like the way you'd run through a new composition, don't you think?"</p><p>"I don't really get..."</p><p>"Am I charming, Professor?"</p><p>"Char-what??" Brett sways back just as Wenuhin starts leaning alarmingly into his personal space, brimming with a kind of devious energy that gets Brett's heart racing ridiculously fast. What kind of charm is he talking about now? The question is utterly stupid and abrupt and if Brett has to arbitrarily answer then <em>yes okay, sure!</em> The guy is <em>extremely</em> easy on the eyes, what with his sharp jawline and long lashes framing his pretty face. Anyone would chance a second look if he was walking down the halls. Brett might be spiteful, but he isn't <em>blind</em>. "I don't know what you want me to say," Brett says instead, because he rather die than admit his physical attraction to the other man.</p><p>Wenuhin smiles, and it's with intent this time. He moves to grasp at Brett's jaw and leans in dangerously close, warm breath ghosting against his lips in a way Brett can't even begin to describe. Wenuhin whispers, sultry, "Shall I convince you, then?"</p><p>Brett's mind instantly shuts down, struggling to understand what the fuck is happening right now. Before he can even register it, there's soft, moist lips pressing against his own, firm and domineering like he knows what he wants. Wenuhin's hand snakes down along his waist and presses against the small of his back and Brett arches, lips involuntarily parting as Wenuhin's tongue licks into his mouth, deepening the kiss, swallowing the air right out of his lungs and his mind along with it.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck. Fuck, fuck oh fuck!</em>
</p><p>He feels Wenuhin's hand slide a hot trail up along his inner thigh and <em>whoa!</em> Brett jerks and roughly shoves him away. Hastily, he stands up and nearly knocks over the chair, whipping an arm over his mouth as if he's just been burned. "You-you!' Brett's stammering, face cherry red and flustered beyond saving. "What do you think you're doing?!"</p><p>Wenuhin licks his lips and shrugs, nonchalant as if he didn't just grope and make-out with his colleague a mere minute ago. If anything, that only serves to rile up Brett even more.</p><p>"Honestly, I think you could use some work. I'll be more than happy to give you lessons, you know..." Wenuhin is smirking at him and - "If anything, your kisses could also certainly use some improvement."</p><p>Wow, okay, <em>now</em> Brett's pissed.</p><p>"Fuck you," Brett bites eloquently, but Wenuhin only seems pleased by his reaction. "I'll get the answer out of Yu Fong himself!"</p><p>"Feel free to update me. Oh, and do finish your coffee before you leave. I made it especially for you."</p><p>"I-" Brett struggles to find his words. "I don't drink coffee black!" A blatant lie if he's ever told one, but who cares. Brett's too busy trying to dash out the door before anything else happens.</p><p>Wenuhin is bad, <em>bad</em> news. Brett knows it in his bones, has always known, and he won't ever be swayed any other way. He won't let that bastard get to him.</p><p>Brett Yang is not an easy piece to play.</p><p>*</p><p>"What's with that? How cute..." Wenuhin murmurs at the other's retreating back, sipping his own coffee in bemusement. His intuition was right, Brett Yang is much more entertaining than he ever would have thought. This year might not be so dull after all.</p><p>
  <em>Let's have fun this semester, Professor Yang. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Brett leans back against the bathtub and sighs, letting the warmth of the water seep through all the tension and taut muscles of his body. It's been a long day. One that has been unnecessarily more stressful than it needed to be.</p><p>Brett sinks into the water until half his face is submerged, blowing small bubbles as his thoughts start to run from him. He closes his eyes and that very moment replays itself, vivid and clear:</p><p>Sharp piercing eyes. A hot searing kiss. A sealed promise of something more. <em>Something dangerous. </em></p><p>"The hell is that fucker thinking..." Suddenly antsy, Brett splashes his face with water, scrubbing his cheeks hard enough to wipe the stupid image from his mind. "Crazy...that guy is totally crazy."</p><p>Pink lips. Sly smile. <em>"Professor Yang?"</em></p><p>Brett brings a hand to press against his chest, biting his lip as he feels the rapid pounding of his heart against it. "Why are you suddenly acting up now..."</p><p>It's strange. Unfamiliar.</p><p>It hasn't beaten like this for a very, very long time and perhaps, back then, it wasn't always like this.</p><p>Brett isn't sure when it first started; he isn't sure when he became so distrusting and detached.</p><p>He isn't sure when he started hating everything he created.</p><p>The thing about a person's mind is that it can easily be susceptible to rumination, to be absorbed in a single thought that eats away at you little by little until it's imprinted into your heart. Beaten into your soul. Convincing you over and over:<em> it's not good, it's not good. You're not good enough. </em></p><p>
  <b>[You're a fraud.]</b>
</p><p>It's powerful, how influential the mind can be. Brett will hear the faceless voices linger over his shoulder, reminding him. Numbing him down. The notes he writes becoming more and more dull with each passing bar. The melody awful and ugly. And yet they'll tell him: <em>'Amazing!' 'You're so talented.' 'You deserve it.'</em> But does he really? He accepts the praise and the lies he tells himself until the once racing pulse that sung with his music became nothing more than just a cold, steady heartbeat.</p><p>"I have to compose..." Brett says, distractedly. He <em>wants</em> to compose.</p><p>But he won't be satisfied. He's not sure if he ever will.</p><p>*</p><p>"Yu Fong, can I talk to you for a moment?" It isn't until two weeks later that Brett manages to get ahold of the kid after rehearsal, and even then Brett isn't exactly sure what to say to him.</p><p>The thing is, the kid seems...different these days. The air around him is more composed, more relaxed and content. His playing returning to a level that Brett can approve of. What can he even ask in this situation, then, if it seems that whatever Wenuhin has done worked like...well, worked like a <em>charm</em>.</p><p>Yu Fong adjusts the strap of his violin case on his shoulder and nods, approaching Brett with a raise of the brow. "Yes, sir? Did I do something wrong again?"</p><p>"Ah, no. You were fine today. It's...good that you got out of whatever slump you were in last time. And, uh, if something does come up again, you're free to let me know. I suppose. If you want."</p><p>"You're really awkward at being nice, professor." Yu Fong says with a laugh. <em>Ouch</em>. "Did you hear something from the dean? Or was it my parents? Is it something they put you up to?"</p><p>"Besides the point," Brett says gruffly, running a stressed hand through his hair. He's starting to get a sense of deja vu with this interrogation. "Professor Wenuhin also raised a concern for you, but I'm glad things worked out."</p><p>"Professor Wenuhin did?"</p><p>The kid's eyes are glimmering in a way that makes Brett feel uncomfortable — that hopeful look of awe and delight. It's not like this is the first time Brett saw something like this, but still.</p><p>"Look, I don't know what kind of pep talk he gave you or whatever lesson he might be giving you, and it's not to say I'm faulting you, but if he's overstepping any lines —"</p><p>"Professor, aren't you misunderstanding something?" Yu Fong says with an amused tilt to his head. "I haven't been seduced by Professor Wenuhin, if that's what you're thinking." Brett makes an undignified noise and Yu Fong giggles at that. "Rather...Professor Yang, what kind of student do I seem like to you?"</p><p>"Erm..." Is he being tested?</p><p>"Diligent and obedient? Quiet and dispassionate?" Yu Fong shakes his head with a soft exhale. "For me, I felt incredibly transparent. That no one cared about what I did or didn't do...that nothing really mattered aside from my status. As a matter of fact, Professor Yang, you don't really care all that much about me right?"</p><p>Brett grimaces out of reflex. He feels like he's being read way too easily these days.</p><p>"Professor Wenuhin...he found me. Saw me for who I am. I spoke about my thoughts and personal views; I <em>played</em> it for him. And it's like <em>Bam! a</em> floodgate opened up inside of me or something." Yu Fong smiles, bright and genuine. "I learned that there's a lot more to the world that's fun and meaningful. Things that can make you feel something, you know? I felt <em>alive</em>."</p><p>Brett nods, rubbing his neck as he looks away. "...That's good," he says, not knowing how else to respond. There really isn't anything else he can add that would do anything to help. "In any case, please continue to perform as well as you did today. Or rather...please continue to strive towards even greater things. You have the potential."</p><p>"Understood, sir." Yu Fong grins, adjusting his case strap once more as he starts backpedaling to leave. "Oh," Yu Fong pauses in his step, gazing up at Brett with an assuring expression. "Professor Wenuhin may seem intense, but I'm really grateful to him. I hope you won't think too poorly of him."</p><p>And with that, the kid takes off with an energetic little hop, leaving Brett behind in the dust along with his confuzzling thoughts.</p><p>*</p><p>So.</p><p>Brett's here again. In front of that same studio door from before, hand awkwardly poised to knock on the wooden frame. It's probably been about two minutes now, the door's still left un-knocked and no attempts have been made to go further than that. He's not sure if he even <em>wants </em>to go further than that.</p><p>This is stupid, Brett thinks, shoving his hands back into his pockets. What's he even doing here in the first place? The issue with Yu Fong has been resolved. There's really no point in getting himself involved anymore. He can just go back and drop everything as it is.</p><p>He could.</p><p>The door suddenly swings open and Brett instinctively jumps back with a startle. Wenuhin's standing halfway-out, expression of brief surprise quickly easing into a pleased smile. "Ah, Professor Yang. Welcome back," Wenuhin greets, as if he's been expecting Brett to show up at his door. "You caught me just in time. Please, come in."</p><p>"No thanks," Brett says resolutely, arms crossed and stance unnecessarily defensive. He isn't taking any chances today. "I just wanted to talk with you briefly, that's all." He watches as Wenuhin leans against the doorframe with one hand in his pocket, gaze steady and curious as he waits for Brett to continue. Brett finds himself dodging those eyes again. "It's about Yu Fong. I don't know exactly what you did with him, but he seems...better. Although I can't say it's within your scope of practice to be counselling them like this, but Yu Fong himself said you helped him a lot, so..."</p><p>Thinking of it, the kid truly seems happier the past couple of days. The change is a stark contrast to how he was in the beginning of the semester; it's almost as if he's been set free of all his restraints, from all the external factors that had been weighing him down all these years.</p><p>What made Yu Fong change?</p><p>Brett cautiously looks up from where his gaze was fixated on the ground, a quiet palpation in his chest steadily making itself known. Did... this guy really have the ability to —</p><p>"I let him play what he wanted to play," Wenuhin answers in that vague bullshit way Brett expects him to. "I tailor my lessons differently for each student. Different to each of their needs. Different, depending on their goals." Wenuhin takes a step forward and Brett takes a step back. "If you're so curious, I did extend an offer to you as well, you know. A <em>private lesson.</em> <em>Just. For. You.</em>"</p><p>The intonation slathers the sentence with a double meaning that's impossible to miss. Brett wants to say something snarky, but all the words get promptly stuck in his throat. "Wh-"</p><p>"Ah, that expression really is cute."</p><p>Before Brett can even <em>muster </em>an intelligible response to that comment, his arm is grabbed and he's promptly yanked into the room, door slamming shut as he's roughly pushed up against it. <em>Fuck!</em> Brett thinks again. <em>Oh fuck, oh fuck. </em></p><p>His mind suddenly spikes with adrenaline as Wenuhin presses right up against him, his body reacting to the heated closeness rolling out in waves. He hears Wenuhin laugh a little in his ear, warm breath fanning across his cheeks and making his heart rate triple in speed.</p><p>Well then. So much for keeping his guard up.</p><p>Not allowing himself to be perturbed this time, Brett braces against Wenuhin's chest and he's about to shove him away when Wenuhin grabs a hold of one of Brett's wrist, grip firm as that fierce, penetrating gaze bears into him. "Why are you afraid of being seen?"</p><p>The question makes Brett completely falter.</p><p>Gently, Wenuhin tilts Brett's chin up with his fingers so Brett's forced to look at him — to look into those piercing eyes that Brett absolutely hates. Wenuhin whispers, "Tell me?" and Brett hasn't the faintest idea how to answer that.</p><p>"I'm not afraid," Brett says in a harsh murmur, breath caught in his throat as Wenuhin presses even closer into him. He feels his body shudder, reflexively, bounded by some spell he can't break out of.</p><p>Wenuhin hums, disapproving. "I don't appreciate you lying to me, Professor Yang."</p><p>Brett tenses as one hand rest on the side of his neck, holding him down; another hand caresses down his sides, firm and purposeful until it reaches his hips and anchors him there. There's a faint trace of something sweet, lavender light imbued with sandalwood, filling his senses with an intoxicating scent Brett can only assume is coming from the other man.</p><p>Then.</p><p>Brett's eyes snap open as Wenuhin grabs a handful of his crotch and <em>squeezes</em>, his whole body jolting back hard against the door in a visceral reaction. "You—" Brett's words gets cut off in a choked noise as Wenuhin starts getting him off from over his slacks, Brett's fingers digging hard into Wenuhin's arms from where he clung. <em>"Motherf—"</em></p><p>"Language," Wenuhin quips, stroking Brett a little more rough. He grins as Brett outright <em>growls</em>. "I never figured you'd have such a dirty mouth, Professor Yang."</p><p>"Gon' talk about dirty when you're the one jacking another man off?" Brett bites back, his spite only lasting a handful of seconds before Wenuhin squeezes purposefully hard, letting Brett fall against his chest with a hiss of pained pleasure.</p><p>"You could push me away," Wenuhin says with a tone of indifference. "You could easily run away, and I'd let you." Wenuhin's fingers move up to play with the belt of Brett's dress pants, feeling Brett's breath waver unevenly against his neck. Wenuhin clips the belt open. <em>"...But you won't." </em></p><p>Brett's back hits the door again and he's sure his rational state of mind is starting to check itself out, all coherent thoughts thrown out the window the moment he watches Wenuhin kneel down in front of him, the moment he feels his aching hard cock exposed to the cool air — the very <em>moment</em> he feels hot lips envelop around it, swallowing him down and igniting his whole body on fire.</p><p>He's so <em>fucked</em>. </p><p>Wenuhin's tongue lathers the side of Brett's cock with thick saliva, swirling and licking up through the tip of his slit, making Brett shake with insane arousal.<em> It's hot, so hot,</em> his hips wants to jerk viciously into Wenuhin's throat and come just like that, but Wenuhin, that fucking bastard, is holding his hips down and making him <em>keen</em> for it. In retaliation, Brett's running his hands through Wenuhin's hair and he <em>tugs</em>, pulling him in deeper, feeling him choke around Brett's cock as the heat builds and builds. He wants to come. He wants to come <em>so bad</em>.</p><p>Wenuhin pulls back and Brett has to fiercely squash down a whine when he loses the wet heat. "<em>Why</em>," Brett groans, exhaling only when Wenuhin wraps a hand to pump his stiff cock out.</p><p>"So impatient," Wenuhin smears the dribble of precum over the sensitive tip, making Brett's insides flip. <em>He wants to come. </em>"I'm not gonna let you," Wenuhun says, as if reading his mind. "Not until you tell me the truth."</p><p>"<em>What truth</em>," Brett almost snarls, teeth grit as Wenuhin twists his wrist and squeezes with practiced pressure, ounces of delighted pleasure shooting through his nerves. "The only truth here is that you're blue-balling me like an inconsiderate fuck," Brett shuts his eyes as he tries to remember how to breathe, his mouth completely running off on its own as he tries to cope with the edging. "You don't know anything about me!"</p><p>"That's the thing," Wenuhun says, voice raw with meaning. "I want to get to know you. <em>All of you</em>."</p><p>The slicked hand on Brett's cock suddenly picks up speed and <em>god</em>, Brett is really going to lose it now. His fingers curl in Wenuhin's hair once more as the other jerks him off the edge, the fire in his gut flaming dangerously high. It's only when Wenuhin dips his tongue down again, kittish licks at the very tip does Brett absolutely <em>loses it</em>.</p><p>A few hard firm presses and Brett instantly comes undone, flushed hot red as Wenuhin takes him all in, globs of white semen generously coating the other's tongue and face. Brett feels equal parts mortified and relieved but in all his post-orgasmic glory, he can't help but think how stunningly <em>good </em>Wenuhin looks — down on his knees and pretty face all covered in Brett's come. It's almost criminal how beautiful it is.</p><p>Brett still feels mortified, though.</p><p>"....Sorry." Brett murmurs. Because even though he's not amicable at the best of times, he knows giving a...a<em> facial</em> without prior-warning is not the most politest thing to do. Then again, having spontaneous sexcapades with another prof in the conservatory isn't all that conventional either.</p><p>"You don't have to apologize," Wenuhin says with a tinge of amusement. Brett watches as Wenuhin licks the come off his lips before standing up, a soft contemplative hum rolling off his tongue. "But I'm going to have the give that a four out of ten." Wenuhin says, all matter-of-fact.</p><p>"Huh?" Brett blurts eloquently.</p><p>"Your grip hold wasn't terrible, but left much to be desired. I don't mind a little rough play every now and then, but there is a right amount of pressure to apply at the right timing. I assume you play the violin so you should know at least the basics of that, don't you? Also, your stance could've been a little wider and your endurance could definitely be worked on more. Just how long have you been pent up for?" Wenuhin is crossing his arms and shaking his head, tone stern and critical as he rattles off his critiques like he's lecturing some student over their piss-poor technique. Alright, whatever slight guilt Brett temporarily harboured has now been completely chucked out the window. "More importantly...you're not honest at all, Professor Yang." Wenuhin steps forward, invading Brett's personal space all over again. "You still won't look me in the eye, even after all this."</p><p>"What's there to look at," Brett grouses, not bothering to hide his raw personality anymore.</p><p>"There's a lot that one can look at. And I'm not just referring to myself," Wenuhin replies with a certain sparkle in his eyes. Brett is absolutely not mesmerized by them, thank you very much. "However, for now... this is a start. I'll take whatever you give me, Professor Yang. I'll take it and make it so that you can see for yourself, how beautiful it can be, the mess and wonder of it all."</p><p>"You're making no fucking sense," Brett murmurs, just as Wenuhin leans in again.</p><p>"You'll get it, eventually. But until then..." Wenuhin presses a knowing smile into their kiss. "If you won't look at yourself, I'll look for you."</p>
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